Sibling Rivalry
by merlinishness1
Summary: Young Arthur is jealous of that new girl in the household.
1. Sibling Rivalry

Arthur's lower lip protruded just a bit and then trembled as he tried not to cry. It was hard, but he knew princes weren't supposed to cry-hadn't his father told him repeatedly that crying was a sign of weakness? And Arthur couldn't show weakness, not if he wanted his father to be proud of him.

But it was so very difficult with that _girl_ now living with them. Morgana was her name and Uther called her a ward, which he said meant she needed protection. As far as Arthur could tell, she did a fine job of protecting herself, especially with her sharp tongue. She had already chastised him when he had fingered her sword. _Who let girls have swords anyways?_ Arthur had thought. The sword was a fighting man's weapon, and his father had said he could have a real sword when he turned eight next month. Morgana had curtly announced that her father had taught her to use both a dirk and a sword, and she had no intention of giving them up.

Uther had just smiled at her when she said this and responded with, "Of course you can keep your dirk and sword. I'll have Sir Alain continue your lessons in weaponry."

Arthur frowned. "Father, when can _I_ begin my lessons in sword fighting?"

Uther gave his son a stern look. "Arthur, we've discussed this before. You are not old enough yet."

When Morgana stuck out her tongue at Arthur, he pulled on her braided hair, but Uther only saw the hair-pulling. "Arthur Pendragon, you will not tease Morgana. She is a young lady and you will treat her with respect," Uther admonished his son.

"Yes, Sire," Arthur responded morosely, hanging his head. Morgana was getting away with everything and Uther really seemed to think she could do no wrong. There must be some way to best her.

Arthur concluded it definitely was worth going without supper just to hear Morgana's shrieks and see her face pale. The young prince knew from the maids that girls didn't find dead things or rats nearly as intriguing as he did. And Morgana proved to be no exception when she found the dead rat in her bed.


	2. Rivalry Revisited

Morgana fumed. Arthur, the little brat, had only been sent to bed without supper. A totally insufficient punishment considering the fright he'd given her by putting that horrible dead rat in her bed. Uther was too easy on the boy. Just because he was theheir to Camelot's throne didn't mean he should get away with tormenting her. All of Camelot's vast lands and wealth would be Arthur's one day. All she had inherited was the Gorlois land; a meager plot of rocky land where survival from year to year was a struggle. And that was now under Uther's management until she was wed. Then it would be her husband who took charge of all of the property, including her.

It wasn't fair. Her father, against all convention, had done more than just allow her to train in weaponry. He had taught her how to manage the property and the basics of defensive warfare. Yet, she, as a woman, would never be able to put those skills to use. And yet, just by accident of birth, regardless of his skills, Arthur would assume the throne of Camelot. What she wouldn't give to switch places with him. She'd do a much better job than Arthur.

As she walked through the deserted courtyard, she thought she heard something. A small sound, a voice perhaps. She stopped and listened carefully. Over there, it was coming from over there, near the well. She could just make it out: "Help me, please" in a thin, wispy voice. It was coming from the well itself. She peered down and could see ashadowy form clinging to the bucket.

"Arthur, are you down there?"

"Yes. 'Gana, is that you? Can you get me out? I'm cold and wet and have been stuck down here for almost an hour."

"What on earth are you doing down there?" Morgana asked, as she felt a pang of sympathy for the frightened child.

"I was looking for frogs," Arthur replied petulantly.

"What were you going to do with a frog, Arthur? Put that in my bed too?" Morgana chided.

"No," the prince replied unconvincingly.

"If you promise not to put things in my bed anymore, I'll haul up the bucket, alright?"

"Alright, I promise," came the small reply.

Morgana thought to herself, _This is the future King of Camelot? Yes, but right now he's just a frightened little boy who needs my help._ She began turning the wheel to draw up the bucket as Arthur clung to it.


End file.
